Name My Style?
What was it the ghost saw. Regarding the most flawed. The ghost never gets heard. But life is what you earn. So what did he see. The right to be free. Like the phantom of the opera. Let no person stop ya. He kept being invisible. It's all divisible. With all it's sub-sets. Life becomes subsequent. The lost then becomes potential. In this life becoming more sequential. The will to survive is all to essential. Evolution of thoughts. Can bring about dreams. The revolution of thoughts. Can bring doubt to the screen. So how do you know the ghost has eyes. If the ghost speaks not. The ghost tells no lies. He's real kid. Reveal this. Then tell me what the deal is. So ahead of the ish this life can provoke. Not behind a cloak. Behind his premonition. Like wanting to create after demolition. Like saying nothing expecting others to listen. I go on repecting and playing my position. Life is but one big exhibition. A man on a mission. Telling the fake not to audition. A ghostly vision. Let them play on, I'll do no wishing. At the end of the exposition. Throw this in. Let's put the fake in remission. Points among the missing. Like the ones they never provide. Them drama loving haters I can divide. I'm so fly I glide. I can pretend to tell the truth all day. Then say nevermind.
Name My Style?opera musicMore Related Questions and Answers ...
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